


Pride

by johnmykawaiiwaifu



Category: The Lorax (2012), The Lorax - Dr. Seuss
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-20
Updated: 2012-07-20
Packaged: 2017-11-10 09:15:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/464656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnmykawaiiwaifu/pseuds/johnmykawaiiwaifu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Once-ler sits in his dark office, strumming a guitar that only made broken notes. </p><p>Kind of like himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pride

The room was dark. That was the only way to describe it. It wasn’t bare, but it didn’t have enough furniture to be called crowded. The fact that the lights were off revealed nothing much about the room, so it couldn’t be described as grand or shabby. The colors were lost in gloom, and it was all but empty of life. In fact, the only living thing in the room was a man. And even he could hardly be described as human. 

The man sat in a high backed chair, his feet up on a polished desk and the brim of his top hat pulled low over his eyes. He held a guitar, and pulled the pick lazily along the strings. The notes were cracked and unpleasant. He was confused. He used to be able to play the guitar effortlessly. Even in the dark. But now… so much had changed in such a short time, for better or for worse. 

He put down the guitar and strode over to the window. He threw the curtains back, revealing the balcony framed against a smoggy sky. All he could see for miles were tree stumps, and a few trees still standing. One fell as a machine cut deep into the trunk. The man shook away the tugging feeling of guilt and doubt in the pit of his stomach and walked back to the desk. The weak light that broke through the smog and into the office didn’t do much, but if you were there, you might have noticed a tiny bit of light reflecting off a metal plate on the desk. And if you had looked very closely at it, you might have been able to read the inscription on it. 

It read: ‘The Once-ler’ 

The Once-ler sat down again and picked up the guitar. He could just barely make out the strings now, and he began to strum it again. The notes were still off. He tried tuning it, but no matter what he did the music still sounded bad. His mood worsened until he put the guitar down and threw the pick away in frustration. It skittered across the balcony and teetered on the edge for a moment before plummeting to the ground below. 

Whatever, he thought. 

The Once-ler closed his eyes for a moment, allowing his mind to wander. He had come so far since he was a child. No one ever believed in him. No one ever thought he could do anything great, but he showed them. He showed them just how great he could be. And now they worked for him. And he had a made a ton of money in the process. 

His eyelids darkened as a figure stepped onto the balcony. The Once-ler lazily cracked open an eye, staring at the orange outline casting a shadow over him. The Lorax tossed him the guitar pick. 

“You dropped this, beanpole.” 

“Whatever. I don’t want it.” The Once-ler caught the pick in his gloved hand and set it on the desk. 

“Oh, having a little trouble, are you?” The Lorax stepped into the room, scanning the darkness for a light switch, but shortly giving up. It was just too dark. 

“No.” The Once-ler said, too quickly and too forcefully for it to be convincing. “Okay, maybe.” 

“What’s wrong? Notes not working out they way they’re supposed too? Everything cracked and sour?” 

“Well, I guess.” The Once-ler shuffled the guitar under his desk with his foot. 

“Well, sounding more and more like you, beanpole. What, is the guitar breaking promises too?” 

The Once-ler stood up. He was more than tired of The Lorax, always messing around with him, always raining on his parade, always undermining his success. 

“Get out.” The Once-ler pointed at the balcony. “Now.” He added as reinforcement. 

The Lorax held up his hands, his moustache twitching with what could have been a smile. “Fine, beanpole, but when this is over, when this crashes around you, I’ll be back to see what’s left.” 

“Even if the thneed business fails now I’ll still have enough money to last a lifetime. I’ll never go back to how I was before, dealing with abuse from people like my family, from people like you.” He jabbed his finger towards the balcony again. “Now get out.” 

“No, beanpole. I meant I’d be back to see what’s left of you.” 

And then he turned around and exited the room. 

The Once-ler didn’t fully understand what the Lorax meant by that for a long time. Not until long after the last tree had been cut down, not until long after his family had left and his money had run out. Not after until that kid Ted planted that seed in the middle of town. No, he only figured it out when the Lorax finally visited him again, while truffula tree seedlings were sprouting from the ground and the Once-ler was happy again for the first time in many years. 

“So, beanpole.” 

The silence seemed to stretch out forever, but countless things were communicated through that nothing. The Once-ler could tell he had come to see what was left, and he could tell that the Lorax was proud. And something about knowing that made him happier than he had ever been in his entire life. Happier than when he first saw the truffula trees, happier than when he had all that money and happier than when the Lorax finally left his life for what seemed like ever. 

Because through all of that, the Once-ler had just wanted to be someone worth being proud of.

**Author's Note:**

> I. Have. No. Life.


End file.
